


When Dreams Come True

by DK65



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:59:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DK65/pseuds/DK65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lysa Tully marries Petyr Baelish...<br/>These characters belong to GRRM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Dreams Come True

Lady Lysa Baelish of a nameless holdfast on the littlest of the Fingers should have been a happy woman. She had all she had ever wanted, despite disobeying and disappointing her father. It was she, not Catelyn, who had shared Petyr’s bed on the night when the Brackens and the Boldwoods had come to Riverrun to see Lord Hoster to settle their dispute. And when her lord father discovered that she was a few months pregnant because of her indiscretion, he had permitted her to wed her one true love, Petyr Baelish, instead of sending her away to the silent sisters and executing Petyr for dishonouring his daughter. But her father did not permit her or her husband to continue living at Riverrun after their marriage—they were both sent off to his holdfast, so that he could better learn to manage his own lands, or so her father said. However, Lysa did not repine—she had her babe and her husband to consider, now. And they would need to gain another great lord’s favour, if Petyr were to rise as high as she hoped he would. She had great faith in his intelligence and ingenuity.

She was happy to be the first of the Tully girls to give birth to her son—poor Catelyn lost her handsome betrothed and had to wed his plain younger brother. So much for family, honour, duty, Lysa mused as she nursed her babe. She had not yet named the boy—after all, there was a rebellion in the land and no one knew if the Iron Throne would stand firm before the forces of the Arryns, Baratheons, Starks and Tullys. “Better to name the child after the war is over,” Petyr said calmly when her boy was born.

Of course, when Robert Baratheon ascended the Iron Throne, Petyr suggested they name their son after the new king. And he also advised her to write to Catelyn, to discover how and with whom they should curry favour, so that he could serve the king as best he might. “He will need men to gather his taxes and negotiate his treaties—I can do that, although I am no warrior,” Petyr said confidently. Again, Lysa did as he asked—Catelyn suggested Petyr should meet with Jon Arryn, who was in King’s Landing. And she wrote to her husband, Ned Stark, to arrange this meeting. Petyr sailed to the capital as soon as they received Catelyn’s raven--Ned did as she asked him to, and introduced his good brother to his foster father, who was now Hand of the King. Petyr got a job as customs clerk at Gulltown out of this meeting—Lysa was certain her husband would go far beyond that in a few years.

Her faith and hope in Petyr’s abilities were not misplaced—within three years of being appointed a customs clerk, Lord Arryn took Petyr to King’s Landing as part of his staff. Lysa would have gone with him—she did so want to experience court life, which Catelyn, living in the cold north, would never enjoy—but Petyr advised against it. He wanted her to stay at their holdfast in the Fingers and watch over his sheep and smallfolk. Their son, young Robert Baelish, would be fostered with Lord Arryn’s heir, young Harry Harrdyng, at Lord Bronze Yohn Royce’s Runestone, in the Vale. Petyr felt he needed to build ties to the Vale Lords—he would not send his son to Riverrun or Winterfell, even though the boy would be amongst relatives. Petyr had hopes of wedding the boy to one of the Royce girls.

 

So when the Tully sisters finally met in King’s Landing after the Greyjoy rebellion was crushed, Lysa wondered why she felt so unhappy. She noticed that Catelyn’s complexion had grown somewhat rough, perhaps due to the northern winds, and her once-slender figure had thickened after bearing her husband three children, two of them girls. She recalled how Petyr and she had decided against having another child after dear Robert was born—he said he had no wish to put her through the agony of childbirth a second time, even though she would have been happy to give him a quiverful of children. And then, she’d also heard from servants’ gossip about Ned Stark’s bastard boy, whom the father insisted on bringing up alongside his trueborn children. She noticed how Cat, who had once taught her, had to relearn how to do her hair the southron way, and how she had to get a few gowns made in the latest fashions for court—it seemed her sister dressed for comfort, not style, in the north.

She should have pitied her sister, but she could not help envying Cat when she saw how Ned looked at her while she spoke to Jon Arryn, her father, her uncle or the king. His glance seemed to say that he could not believe his luck to have her as his lady wife. She wondered if Petyr ever looked at her like that, when she was not looking—but then she saw Petyr gazing at her sister, a greedy look in his eyes. She watched as his eyes turned cold as ice as he looked at Lord Stark, still gazing at his wife with a look of wonder in his eyes. And then she realized that, even though she had given Petyr a healthy, handsome, bold and clever boy, who won praise from his maester and his master of arms and Lord Royce himself; even though she managed his nameless holdfast and cared for his sheep and smallfolk as well as she could, she would never take Catelyn’s place in Petyr’s heart.


End file.
